𝗦𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗡 ➣ draco malfoy (enemies to lovers)

𝟯𝟬- 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝘂𝗲𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴

𝐅𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐍'𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒 laughter tolled through the crisp wind, a melody much too noisy and acutely distressing for the early morning hours.

"A duel?" The Ravenclaw cracked as he balanced lopsidedly on the Nimbus 2001 broomstick that—mind you— Draco let Flynn borrow today out of the pure kindness of his heart, "Are my ears deceiving me, or did I seriously just hear you say that you asked Serena to duel you? Once again Draco... your concept of flirting is fucking abysmal."

Draco's grip tightened on his Firebolt's wooden handle as he glided over to guard the quidditch pitch's goalposts, a flash of irritation reaching his sharp features at his friend's heckling. He anticipated Flynn's move before it even happened, managing to block Flynn's quaffle from whirling through the middle goalpost with a harsh push of his wrist.

Draco was so high up in the air that he could practically count the leaves crowning the Forbidden Forest's treetops in the distance, a sea of green shrubbery that acutely reminded him of Wood's recognisable, prepossessing jade gaze. A few students were strolling the outskirts of the afar Black Lake, seeming like tiny little moving specs from this height. He spotted Daphne as one of those specs, the wind whipping her wavy blonde strands past her.

Why he ever willingly agreed to wake up before Saturday's break of dawn to mentor Flynn as the boy prepared for next year's open chaser position on Ravenclaw's team, he'll never understand— especially now that the arsehole had taken this opportunity to relentlessly mock him.

Draco informed with utmost seriousness, the tone of a no-nonsense coach, "Your aim is off. Every quaffle you direct towards me keeps veering to the left. Apply more force to your throws."

Flynn satirically nodded his thanks at the instruction, yet his loud chuckles refused to diminish as he soared over to the middle of the field to seize the quaffle that had fallen on the grassy ground beneath them.

"There is no way you're winning against Serena, mate. She is going to beat your sorry arse." Flynn baited him as he chucked the quaffle at full force towards the left goalpost.

Draco blocked the attempt effortlessly without even having to move, rolling his eyes at both Flynn's remark and his shitty throw. "Every other Ravenclaw trying out for the same position as you next year will beat your sorry arse if you don't figure out a way to improve your accuracy with your throws."

Flynn grumbled, "Okay, I get it,"

"And besides," Draco continued, "You're wrong. I am going to win. I have no choice otherwise."

He didn't elaborate on why that was the case, not wanting to divulge that he agreed to stop associating with Flynn were Serena to come out victorious in this duel. Not only that, but he had to win to ensure that Serena permanently cut all ties with Theodore Nott.

Admittedly, Draco hadn't caught them interacting with each other this past week— but he also blatantly kept one eye on Theo at all times, and rehired Crabbe and Goyle to discreetly stalk his ex-friend's every step. So it was possible Nott was just being overly cautious. Yet, despite their resurgent indifference to each other, the gossipy claim that Nott and Wood were together still left a disgustingly sour taste in Draco's mouth... so he needed to make certain that the ridiculous rumour never ended up becoming his reality.

Although Serena hadn't interacted much with Draco either this week... considering nearly every time  they happened to cross paths, Flynn was right by his side chatting his ear off. And since Serena was avoiding Flynn like the pneumonic plague after their falling out, that unfortunately meant that she was avoiding Draco too.